


Moving in Sync

by samidha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Sam and Dean may finally be on their own terms.





	Moving in Sync

**Author's Note:**

> Another older fic I can't even find the date for right now so I'm not going to backdate this. I like it. It was a good prompt.
> 
> It took about six weeks, but for the second time in living memory all of my fic is now up on AO3 (I left for a while) and in a more haphazard way on my Dreamwidth. All of this is fairly organized, I'm now organizing it by pseud (if it says it was written by roguefaerie it is current fic, I am writing again, but this is not perfectly organized yet). samidha is me during a period of about 2008-2011, roguefaerie is current. Roguefaerie is also the pseud active in other fandoms. I have one current series/big bang I wrote this summer, an American Gods/SPN crossover, and 2 other series completed since AG debuted on TV. My 5 other series were written in the before-time including my 2009 big bang and Of Dreams and Demons, a gen novel.
> 
> So there's lots of fic to be had and now it is all here. Enjoy! This particular piece was probably written close to the airing of S3 but I lost its date for the moment.

Sam douses the remains in kerosene and Dean throws the match and they let out a breath in unison as the first lick of flames starts, then whooshes up. Out here, hunting together, with no one between them and another threat vanquished, they bask in the sudden rush of _safe_ , _right_. _Us_.

It took a long time to get here, to not be afraid anymore (not of this). It took Dad being gone, it took the deal being made, it took Sam reaching out in desperation, his hand settling firm around the arm of the old leather jacket that just meant _Dean Dean Dean_. Sam held on tight enough that it must have hurt, his eyes bright and miserable and pleading. _Time's almost up._

Something had twisted inside of them, more twisted than the things they hunted because it was closer. It was deeper inside and it connected both of them, like the way they switched off digging the graves, like clockwork, Dean on the even cases and Sam on the odds, because these were the last ones. Like the clink of cleaning the guns, like gun oil, like Dad, the Impala, their home.

This was twisted, this was wrong, but it was theirs.

It was one of the only things left that was theirs, that they could still choose.

The days were ticking down and Dean ran. He ran to women and he ran to the bottle and he said, "You know a guy's got to live while he can, Sammy," and Sam busted in pieces. He was lightheaded and nauseated and miserable and he thought maybe he'd just die right along with Dean.

He needed more. He needed Dean. He needed his brother to _stay_ , Jesus fuck.

"Dean, please," Sam said, and he grabbed for Dean's jacket and held on, and when he backed Dean against the wall Dean stepped in time with him, going willingly and Sam felt a breath rush out of him in relief. "Need to feel you," he said, "I can't-- We don't--"

"Shut the fuck up, Sam," Dean rasped, "Just...." Dean couldn't ask, Sam knew he never would, so he leaned in, taking what was being offered by the way that Dean held himself, poised, waiting. Sam leaned in, licking along Dean's jaw, tasting, before he kissed Dean, rough and decisive. But in the next second Dean was pushing him back, not away, but moving with him, onto the bed and going down with him on top of the covers.

It started there and now it holds them together, secret and terrible and beautiful and miserable and wonderful and theirs, and they are silent together in a graveyard, moving in sync as only they can. Time ticks down, but with the scent of smoke and earth in the air and Sam's hand firm on Dean's shoulder they feel alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sam/Dean, the rich scent of leather, gun oil, fresh earth, and sweat.


End file.
